


i know (you know)

by ghostwit



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Compulsory tag because it is true lel., Fluff, Gen, M/M, Minor Injuries, Platonic Romance, Pre-Dressrosa, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: Sanji doesn't speak as he steps up to rest his elbows on the rail of the Sunny , simply flashing Law a grin with the corner of his mouth, cigarette kept with a loose sureness between his teeth, bumping Law's hip with his own.Law gets let in on a Strawhat tradition.
Relationships: Allusion to ZS because I'm like tha., Trafalgar D. Water Law & Vinsmoke Sanji, Trafalgar D. Water Law/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	i know (you know)

Sanji doesn't speak as he steps up to rest his elbows on the rail of the _Sunny_ , simply flashing Law a grin with the corner of his mouth, cigarette kept with a loose sureness between his teeth, bumping Law's hip with his own. 

"You mind if I smoke?" He's cheerful, eyes crimped into happy half-moons, as he always is after a good meal. He knows Law will say yes from the way his shoulders uncoil and he slumps forward a little onto his forearms when the scent of tobacco, tickling and pungent, wafts past, but he asks anyway. 

"Yeah," and Law knows he knows, but he answers anyway. 

The sun's since set, an hour or so later than it had the day before as they get closer to Dressrosa's temperate climate, but the light's not fully bled out of the sky yet, sliding along the seal of the horizon. Sanji smokes with an ease, softly wagging his empty hand over open ocean and letting it flop with the wind, and something about it feels so familiar that Law lets his eyes close, taking in a breath through his nose, slow and quiet. Sanji notices, but doesn't say anything. 

Law doesn't know why he reaches across the railing, snatches Sanji's hand in his with an almost childish petulance, wrist snapped and lips tight. He arcs an eyebrow at him and opens his mouth to let out a puff of smoke, seemingly unimpressed, and, oh, that's so much worse than anything else he could've anticipated (primarily a kick, hard and fast and dismissive), tamping down the flush that crawls up his neckline and over splotched cheeks. 

"You're shaking," Sanji mutters, still smiling, stepping just a bit closer and turning his wrist upwards so Law can press tattooed fingers into the ridges of his veins, feel his pulse. 

“Perhaps,” Law turns away to watch the ocean with a snort, lets the smoke tickle his cheek and Sanji’s curls spill over his shoulder when he steps close. He keeps his fingers over his wrist, though, reverent and firm, delicate nerves the equivalent of the chef’s soft underbelly. He’s further nudged out of the way, neck craned seaward, when Sanji nudges himself further over Law’s shoulder, his skin soft where it presses against Law’s. 

Lips find his trapezius where it connects his strained neck to his shoulder, chaste and firm over thin cloth, and Law sputters, clapping his hands suddenly around the palm the blonde had forfeited. It would be nice, if not for the ash smearing hot against his back causing his arms to draw up in reflex, counteracting any of the soothing Sanji’s thin mouth would have offered.

“ _Kuroashi-ya_ ,” he snaps, turning to face the cook as he draws away. He’s laughing, reaching up with the hand from which the half-smoked cigarette still dangles to brush the hair from his face.

“What? Zoro lets me do it,” Sanji giggles around the words, immature in contrast with his deep register and the knife’s edge glint of his smile. 

“With the cigarette?” Law scoffs, tossing the hand he’d captured so it bounces harshly on the wooden railing as he does, “You Strawhats are something.” and, almost as an afterthought, “Don’t touch me like I’m one of your own.” 

As if Law hadn’t bridged the gap and taken the chef’s hand in his own, as if Law doesn’t stand on their _Sunny_ with his heart in the net of their captain’s rubber fingers, as if he hadn’t reached down without hesitation to feel out the tender pit where Sanji’d extinguished the cigarette against his ribs so it wouldn’t burn Law when he turned to press his lips against his back.

And so, they know, but Sanji doesn’t protest, Law rolling his fine shirt down with careful fingers after removing ash scattered around the wound with a quiet _takto_ . It’s no big deal, but Sanji is led into the medbay, which Law enters with a polite rap of his knuckles against the rim of the porthole. Chopper’s hooves work easily in tandem with tattooed fingers, and Sanji’s grin speaks for him. _One of our own, eh?_

**Author's Note:**

> I really dig the idea of Law liking cigarette smoke, yeah, lol. Also, Sanji being a little less of a tightass about other men after he cooks and also like. just generally being a smug little shit that teases people is good AND in character, thank you very much. I really should write him more to let people see a more cohesive version of my characterization but like. This is fi. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed (or didn't)! I really do appreciate it. 
> 
> hazeism.tumblr.com


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